


Bathe me now, wash me clean, like gasoline

by tastinglove



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Season 3 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 06:18:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6068359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastinglove/pseuds/tastinglove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will and Hannibal fall. Together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bathe me now, wash me clean, like gasoline

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what this is. This was written within like 20 minutes. I hate myself.

He can feel the ground slipping away under his feet. He can feel the all-surrounding and all-consuming nothingness that spreads around his body and his mind. The silent wind rushes over his head, through his hair and into his lungs. And then there is that other sensation. A comforting touch of warmth laying over his shirt near his hip- A firm grasp that could not be more gentle and more powerful at the same time. 

He can feel the blood dripping down his face, inside his mouth. Feels it seeping through his wound on his shoulder, soaking his shirt and staining his skin. The smell of copper and iron is in the air and on his tongue. A couple of hours ago he could smell the salt of the sea, he could hear the waves crushing against the unforgiving rocks of the cold shore. 

Hannibal breathes against his ear. It’s warm and calm. The grip on his body tightens slightly and Will knows that must mean they’re about to hit the water. If he wanted to, he could feel the pain of all his wounds. The burning of his gaping flesh. He could feel the dizziness caused by his loss of blood. He doesn’t. He doesn’t want to. He knows there is good in ripping open and in losing. It means something. And when he rests his chin over Hannibal’s shoulder and inhales his scent at the base of his neck, he knows that means something too. 

And then there’s cold and wet and black. Hannibal’s back hits the water first. Shielding Will from the first unbearable feeling of needles entering his body. He doesn’t know if he’s ever felt more connected to Hannibal. He doesn’t know where his body ends and where Hannibal’s begins, doesn’t know if they’re sharing the same breath, doesn’t know if their blood is mixing together. He finds he doesn’t care and he couldn’t possibly care more. 

At first, his own body goes limp in the deep of the sea. Then there is the icy water on his skin and inside his body, gripping and tearing at the last remainder of his old soul. He could get lost in the feeling. It would be easier. To just let go completely. But Hannibal doesn’t let go. He engulfs him. Will knows Hannibal must be in excruciating pain himself. When he focuses enough he can feel the trembles coursing through his body. But if his hand was at the right spot on Hannibal’s body, he knows he would feel a heartbeat. Strong and fueled by willpower and primal instinct. 

So he doesn’t give up. He senses that Hannibal is trying to pull them upwards. The waves are hitting them from every direction. He can’t see anything and his lungs are burning. He is burning. And Hannibal is burning with desire for them to survive. Pain shoots through his arms and legs when he tries to help Hannibal bring them to the surface. 

He can’t open his eyes but he feels the cold air around them when they do finally come up, gasping for air. The salt water is ripping at every fibre of his body. He is shaking and he can feel Hannibal’s shivering hands everywhere on him. 

He has never felt more alive.


End file.
